The Last Honorable Man by Vickie Taylor

it.”
    â€œYeah, if I can.”
    â€œYou can’t save them all, Del.”
    Del didn’t want to think about that, not here, not now. No, but I can damn sure try to save this one.
    But that thought pealed through his mind like church bells all the way back to the carriage house. In his apartment he couldn’t concentrate on the book he’d been reading for the maelstrom in his head. He couldn’t unwind, so he made himself a cup of decaf coffee and went out to sit on the back stairs to the apartment. Usually he found the view calming. He could see all the way to downtown Dallas. Watch the big lighted ball on top of Reunion Tower turn.
    He could see that all was right with his corner of the world.
    Only, tonight nothing felt right.
    What if he couldn’t save her?
    No. He refused to think that way. He couldn’t bring Garcia back to life. Maybe he couldn’t even repair the damage to his career or fill this great, yawning emptiness inside him. But he could damn well keep Elisa Reyes in the United States where she and her child would be safe.
    He stopped, the surety of that one thought gusting through him like a gale-force wind. Whatever it took, he could not let Elisa Reyes be sent back to San Ynez. Whether she wanted his help or not, she would have it. He owed her that much.
    And Del Cooper damn well paid his debts.
    Â 
    Elisa hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but she’d been so tired. The men’s voices—the politician and the policeman—had droned on. She’d listened, but her eyelids had grown heavy.
    Now the night, and her chance to escape, was almost over. According to the clock by the bed, dawn would break in another hour, and she panicked as she remembered last night’s conversations.
    She couldn’t go back to San Ynez. She wouldn’t let them send her.
    Anger and fear razed her nerves, making her hands shake. She’d come to America to start a new life for her child. Eduardo was gone, but he would want her to stay, to give their child that life even without him. How could a parent not want that?
    Silently Elisa rose and found her boots, her bag. She’d seen two cars in the garage the ranger called the carriage house last night. It didn’t take long for her to find the keys hung neatly in a cabinet by the door. Apparently the politician counted on the iron gate around his property and the ranger who lived above his precious cars to protect them. The lock on that cabinet wouldn’t stop anyone.
    Inside the convertible with the leaping jaguar on the hood, she fumbled with the keyring. Quietly. She had to be quiet, or the ranger would hear.
    Pushing the only key she hadn’t yet tried into the ignition, she dropped the whole ring. Ay, Diós. Then she crossed herself for her transgression. When she bent her head to retrieve the keys, the seat creaked beneath her. The rich smell of leather filled her senses as she groped around the floorboard.
    When she finally got a grip on the keys and raised her head, she found the ranger standing just beyond the front bumper. His thick forearms were folded over his broadchest, and the starlight behind him gave his gray eyes a silvery glow, pinning her in place.
    â€œGoing somewhere?” he asked.
    Breaking the eye contact, she shoved the key home and twisted. The engine purred to life. Before she could put it in gear, though, the car dipped and jounced. She jerked her head up. Her eyes widened at the sight of the ranger’s boots clomping across the polished hood. He easily hopped over the windshield and landed in the seat next to her. “Don’t mind if I tag along, do you?” he asked. “Just to make sure Gene gets his car back.”
    She flinched at the implication that she was stealing the car. Of course, she was stealing the car. But it was necessary. Her child’s life was at stake. “Let me go,” she said, angling her chin.
    Casually he reached over and switched off